


Far From Home

by Kayani_Iriel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Pre-World of Warcraft: Legion, feels trip, no betas we die like WOMEN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: The night before the assault on the Broken Shore, and Genn slips aboard the Lion's Oath to see Varian.
Relationships: Genn Greymane/Varian Wrynn
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Far From Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltsoda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltsoda/gifts).



Genn’s quiet as he walks down the narrow hallways of the _Lion’s Oath_. It’s late, and he shouldn’t be on board, but thanks to where they’re waiting near Dalaran, it was easy enough to depart his gunship and come over to the flagship. To come to Varian.

After all, who knows what tomorrow will bring?

He tries not to think of tomorrow’s projected assault against the Legion as he reaches the king’s small stateroom. Best to not borrow trouble, not now. The door opens easily, surprising him.

“I thought you’d come.” Varian’s words are soft, only loud enough for his worgen senses to pick up. They’ve gotten good at communicating quietly since they left Stormwind, with all the people around.

Genn locks the door behind him, crosses the cramped room, stopping by the desk bolted to the floor. “How could I not?” he asks, equally softly.

Varian stands, turns to face him. He reaches out, running a hand down Genn’s face. “You could have been busy.”

Genn shakes his head. “Not for you. Never for you.”

His comment earns him a rare, true smile. He thinks, not for the first time, that Varian looks best when does that unguarded smile. He can see where Anduin gets his from, in those moments.

Varian drops his hand, reaching for Genn’s. “Come. It’s a tight fit, but we’ll manage.” He leads the older king to the small bunk, clambers in, pressing his back against the wall. He throws out an arm as an invitation. Genn lies down, tucking himself in close, a hand on the dark-haired man’s hips. His head fits nicely just under Varian’s, and he closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of him. A steady heartbeat under his ear lulls him, and he settles into a doze.

He’s not sure how long he sleeps there, in Varian’s arms, nor is he sure Varian sleeps at all, but he’s eventually awakened by a hand combing his hair. He arches into the touch, yawning, and cuddles in a little closer. That earns him a quiet chuckle, but the hand doesn’t stop moving.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you were a cat, not a wolf.”

He smiles into Varian’s chest. “Even the palace hounds enjoy being touched now and again,” is his retort.

“As if you were a tame dog.”

Genn’s not about to tell him the truth. Either he knows, or he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a small growl, and holds Varian tighter. He’s rewarded with a kiss to the forehead, and a contented sigh. He’s as close as he can get to his lover without stripping bare, and he’s not sure if that’s where they’re going. On a ship this small, with this many people, it would be a fool’s idea. He can content himself with what they currently have, as long as Varian can.

He does see the laces of Varian’s shirt are mostly undone, and that prompts an idea. Releasing the other man, he reaches up, teasing the laces open further, until the younger man’s chest is exposed. He kisses the skin, running his cheek through the dark chest hair, stopping to suck at one nipple.

“Genn,” his name is a sigh on the other man’s lips. The hand in his hair tightens, but does not pull him away. He slides along the skin, to Varian’s collarbone, and stops just below it. He sucks, gently at first, then stronger, running his tongue over the flesh in his mouth. No biting, no teeth, just a love mark, a dark purple bruise Varian will carry into battle tomorrow. His mark.

He pulls back, surveying it, sliding a thumb across.

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” The murmured voice is amused.

“Perhaps,” he concedes, feeling his ears flush.

There’s a small laugh from Varian, then the hand in his hair moves, pushes him on his back. The bed’s narrow, but he manages to twist in such a way he’s spread out. The younger king’s fingers undo the top buttons of his starched shirt, deftly working the linen open, exposing his chest. Genn stays motionless as Varian leans down, burying his nose in hair, inhaling deeply, and emitting a small sound of approval.

Varian moves, sucking first at one nipple, then the other, and Genn’s breath is coming in short pants, and his fits are balled in the blankets. He growls softly when Varian leaves a mark on him in the same place.

“Something wrong, wolf?”

“Never took you for the sentimental type.”

“Am I not allowed to mark my lover?” Varian slides over his body, pressing him into the bed.

“You’re the High King, I think you can do what you wish, your majesty.”

“Such a mouth on you.” There’s a devious smirk on the younger man’s lips, a delicious twist. Genn leans up, catching those lips in a kiss, hot and hungry, and earns a low groan for his troubles. Varian molds against him, hard against his leg, as they battle for control. He pulls the leather tie from Varian’s hair, carding his hands through the tresses as he melts into the blankets. He’s panting, aching with need when they finally pull apart.

“I need you,” Varian gasps against him. He strips his shirt off, letting it slide to the floor. “Please Genn. If tomorrow is to be our last, let me spend tonight losing myself in you.”

He’ll deny his king nothing. He slips out of his own shirt, undoes the fastenings on his trousers, and peels out of them when his lover slides off the bed to undress. He wonders for a moment what they’ll do without oil, but Varian appears to have thought of everything. He’s pulled a small vial from his packs, and is advancing back to the bed.

They’ve been in Dalaran for some time, separate and unwilling to come together, but Genn’s in no mood to take it slow. He can smell Varian’s arousal on the air, the scent thick, and knows their coupling will be quick and frantic, exactly what they need.

Varian kneels between his legs, fingers slick with oil. His cock is swollen, and he takes a moment to oil himself, with Genn letting out a quiet moan of appreciation. Genn has a short list of previous trysts, but no one’s ever excited him in bed like Varian does. No one understands him like Varian does.

He arches his back as his lover’s fingers touch him, making him ready. He moves his legs, slipping them on either side of Varian’s slim hips, urging him on. It works, and Varian is moving, pulling him up on his thighs, pressing his legs up. He knows the position is an odd one, but it’s a favorite of them both. At the moment, he doesn’t care what they look like, all he wants is to feel his lover.

His hands reach up to cover where Varian is gripping his legs, gasping as he’s entered. He closes his eyes, savoring the stretch and burn, the feeling of being filled, the joining of the two of them. Varian groans softly, seating himself deep, kissing the back of Genn’s leg. It’s an oddly intimate moment, and Genn feels a twinge in his heart.

Then Varian begins to move, setting a frantic page. Genn grips his hands, letting his king take his pleasure, enjoying the moments when Varian hits that post just right, causing his vision to spark with lights. He appreciates that while Varian has a strong need, he’s still a considerate lover, and Genn’s near the edge of orgasm in minutes.

Varian’s thrusts falter, becoming ragged in their pacing, and then he shoves deep, letting out a quiet groan. Genn feels him release, and reaches down, seeking his own. It only takes a few touches before he joins the high king, emitting a long sigh, mindful of the thin walls.

Varian moves, and Genn makes space for him, allowing the taller man to settle in his arms. He holds him close, listening his his heartbeat slow, feeling the heat from his skin, smelling his sweat. One hand traces the scars on his cheekbones, as if the memorize them.

Th dark-haired man searches his face for a long moment, expression unreadable. He reaches a hand up, cupping Genn’s cheek gently, running a thumb along the stubbled jaw. “Whatever happens tomorrow, thank you.”

Genn brushes back a sweaty lock of hair, then kisses Varian. “We’re taking the fight to Gul’dan, so others might live. It has been my honor to be beside you, fighting, and in other ways.”

That rare smile comes to light again, causing another twinge in Genn’s chest.

“Now sleep,” Genn says firmly. “You’ll need your strength for battle, my king.”


End file.
